Curious Incidents in the Night Time
by Snape's Nightie
Summary: Hagrid has trouble sleeping. Snape does not. Oneshot, flufffilled drabble, mentions SLASH. No spoilers. SSRH


Disclaimer: Characters and situations belong to JKR, not me! I'm just messin' about.

Warning: Mentions non-graphic SLASH, ie gayness, ie homosexuality, ie boy-love, ie poofery. Specifically Snape/Hagrid, my new favourite ship, heh heh.

Also, Beware of the FLUFF. Thank you x

I doubt most people would imagine that I get a bit of insomnia. They say that spending all day doing manual labour outside in the fresh air makes a man eat like hippogriff and sleep like a log. The first part is true, you can tell from just looking at me – I love good, plain food followed by pudding and custard. Probably more pudding and more custard than is good for me, but Severus likes my flabby belly, he pokes it with his thin fingers and watches it jiggle for ten minutes at a time. He is fascinated by fat, not having any of his own. I search his body all over for a spare ounce that he's tucked away, but never find one. He's still as lithe and sparse as he was at fifteen.

I suppose I should call it sleeplessness rather than insomnia. Insomnia sounds too drastic a word for the hours I lie awake at night, not feeling desperate or ill or anything really unpleasant, just listening to the stillness of this busy world at rest while I turn things over in my mind. In a way, I rather enjoy it, because that's when I get to watch Severus sleep.

It's one of my favourite pastimes. I was taken aback at first, thinking there was something wrong with him, but once I got used to him sharing my bed, I realised it made perfect sense. During his waking hours, Severus is quiet, restrained, stiff, formal and keeps his face and posture inscrutable to others. Except me of course, though I'm not sure if he lets his mask slip with me deliberately, or if I've just got good at reading him, but even I have trouble figuring out exactly what goes on behind those black eyes sometimes. But not at night.

While he sleeps, he fidgets. He wriggles and kicks, stretching his long limbs untidily across the bed, his hair tumbling over me and the pillows, sometimes trailing in his mouth. He chatters to himself, too. Mostly he keeps up a stream of incoherent little sounds, peppered with the occasional word I can understand, like 'lacewings,' or 'counterclockwise'. Best of all I like it when he goes all rigid, sticks his chin in the air and hisses "ten points from Griffindor". It makes me laugh and I kiss his wonderful sleepy sneer, but he never wakes up. I always mean to go and check the house points in the morning, because that counter is very sensitive. I usually forget, so I never know whether my housemates who torment Severus' dreams lose us points or not.

Sometimes he will sit upright with an expression of intense concentration and roll his wrist round and round in even circles. It took me two sessions to work that one out – brewing in his sleep.

Tonight, he is snoring a perfect rhythm, lying diagonally across the bed, his legs tangled in mine. From time to time he frowns and mutters, sometimes turning over to grab a handful of my beard. My beard is another thing about me which he likes to play with. He complains that his own facial hair is too sinister, and if left to itself, will grow into an evil black moustache and goatee combination which makes him look like a wicked uncle. I point out that everything else about him is sinister, and how odd he would look with an unkempt chinwarmer like my own, but he still grumbles and runs his fingers through it enviously.

He rolls over acrobatically and curls inwards on himself, hoofing my shin in the process. Usually when he adopts that position…yes, there we go. He's sucking his thumb now. Absolutely adorable, or I think so at least. His fearsome reputation wouldn't last long if anyone else could see him like this. But that's a pointless observation because they're never going to, because at night he's mine and no one else can have him.

He came to my hut a few days after the war ended, wanting some unicorn fur for one of his potions. I told him I'd get some that night and he could come back the next morning for it. He did. We had tea and he stayed for almost an hour. Then he kept coming, at first asking for bits and bobs from the forest or the creatures, but after a while he didn't bother finding an excuse. I rather enjoyed the visits, though I didn't understand why he made them. Professor Dumbledore mentioned that I seemed to be the only person he actively chose to spend time with, so I felt a bit proud that he saw me as a friend, even if he never said much. He was just content to sit there and hear about my everyday tasks.

One afternoon I was telling him how I'd just been summoned into the forest by an emergency patronus, and found Harry and Hermione in a blind panic because Ron had somehow got himself sucked into an evisceration bog and I'd pulled him out and dumped him in my big bathtub to get rid of the noxious sludge.

"Yer have to get the whole lot off before it starts eating into the skin, y'see," I explained, still a bit unnerved about the close call even though it ended safely. Plenty of animals have died in that bog. "Had to scrub him all over."

Severus was looking small in my guest chair with Fang sprawled below his dangling feet, inscrutable eyes peering into his mug of tea.

"Lucky Weasley," he muttered in his usual scathing tone.

Not understanding, I thought he was having yet another go at my young friends for having lots of good fortune while he always got the short straw. I didn't mind him wallowing in self-pity if it made him feel better, but those three kids have been through hell and back with the war and all, and I hate to see anyone suggesting they got an easy ride. I suppose I got kind of fierce in my defence of them.

"Them three are my friends, Professor," I snapped, "They come to me because they care about me, and I care about them. Yeh know, in the staffroom, the gossip is that the only reason yeh hang around here is because you're trying to get me into bed!" It was true, there were rumours like that, but I don't know why I said it. I try never to say hurtful things to anyone.

"That is not the case," he replied coolly. I began to stammer apologies, horrified at my unusual bout of temper. Fang was staring reproachfully at me, but Severus carried on talking. "I also enjoy your company."

Feeling properly guilty, I hung my head for a moment, until my brain caught up with my ears.

Also.

He'd said, 'also.'

I gaped at him for a second, trying to understand what he'd said, but his face was giving nothing away.

"Also?" I managed weakly after a minute. He raised one eyebrow.

"That is correct. I hang around here not_ only _because I want to get you into bed, but _also _because I enjoy your company," he clarified.

"And Ron is lucky because…" I heard myself say, from far away.

"Because you bathed him and scrubbed him all over," he explained slowly, as though I was a particularly slow first-year Hufflepuff. Then, going suddenly timid, he stared out of the cabin window at one of the blast-ended screwts play-fighting with Fluffy on the lawn and very quietly added. "I rather hoped there would be room in that big heart for one more unlovable creature."

He gave me a few days to think about whether or not I wanted him. It didn't take me that long. It's not every day a clumsy, overweight, unqualified half-giant gets that kind of offer from a clever, brave and elegant wizard twenty-five years younger. I caught myself worrying about personality clashes and long-term prospects but put a swift stop to that. You don't know if something works unless you try it.

At dinner that same evening, the staff were amused to see Professor Snape receive a package which, when unwrapped, turned out to be a rubber duck. I was quite pleased when I thought of that. He was on my doorstep minutes later with glittering eyes and a cat's-got-the-cream smirk which I found very flattering.

I needn't have worried about falling out with Severus. He was as fastidious in his development of our relationship as with all his other duties. It was just beautiful to watch him paying attention to how I took my tea, which of my creatures required feeding or nurturing and how often, not to mention the careful mapping of each and every one of my erogenous zones and exactly what I liked him to do to them.

He is usually very quiet, responding to conversations rather than starting them himself, and occasionally I worry that he's bored of my limited knowledge or just bored of me. He can always tell when I start to fret about him, though. He will frown from across the room then slide into my lap to kiss me.

"Are yeh happy, Severus?" I ask, dreading the answer, despite the wonderful feel of his thin lips pressed against mine.

"Yes," he says simply. In his mind, there is no need to say more. I know he would complain if he weren't happy, and he assumes I would do the same, so never bothers to ask me. I say it anyway, because I like to say it aloud.

"I'm happy too," I kiss him again, feeling him wriggle against me. At about this point, we usually head for the bedroom.

He turns over again, snuggling against me with a throaty moan. My arms automatically wrap around his delicate frame and he slurs my name without waking. I notice then that I am on the very edge of the mattress again. I am the half-giant, he is the rail-thin human, yet he somehow manages to sideline me and hog the enormous bed for himself. On the coldest nights of winter I wake up, shivering and exposed, lying next to a tightly-wrapped Swiss roll which snarls and threatens if I try to reclaim any blankets. I am ready for this now. I keep a spare set of covers for myself in the chest at the foot of the bed. Of course, on the really icy nights he makes a bid at snatching those too.

It's late summertime now, and we are warm enough with just a sheet and each other. I still feel wide awake, though I think the school clock over the way just struck half past three. In a way I am privileged to be awake to enjoy this side of Severus, not that I'd ever tell him that. I think he'd be annoyed if anyone at all knew about the thumb-sucking, even if it is only me. Of course, if I mentioned the sleep-talking, or even the sleep-brewing he'd probably take some kind of potion to calm him down and make it stop.

I don't want him to stop.

I don't want to sleep either.

I'll grab a nap in the afternoon while he's teaching and belongs to other people. I like to enjoy him while he's all mine.


End file.
